


when you cannot say my name

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Arguing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cat Grant - Freeform, Cat Grant Comes Back, Cat Grant Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, F/F, Femslash, First Kiss, Names, Necklaces, Return, SuperCat Summer 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 23:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: Kara gets angry about her name being misused again. How will she and Cat deal with this persistent problem?





	when you cannot say my name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iamsuperconfused](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamsuperconfused/gifts).



The martinis helped, even if they had no effect on Kara or her level of intoxication. Seeing Cat so relaxed, so free with her advice, she really thought they’d turned a corner that night. And they had, until the mess over Cat guessing Kara was Supergirl, and the downright fiasco that was the Adam situation. 

Kara had taken the name change punishment willingly then, although she’d only heard about Karla--a new low--when Alex sheepishly relayed J’onn’s brush with Cat to her. The whole “number two” debacle was better than a mangled name, even as Cat continued to pronounce Siobhan’s jumble of consonants perfectly. At first Kara had assumed Cat had some undisclosed Irish heritage, but an entire weekend of completing a genealogy project on the Grants had confirmed otherwise. 

When that “Kara” had finally come, amidst the threat of tears and the swooping sensation of new possibilities, it had meant more than the promotion or the private office. That Cat stuck to it even while lecturing Kara about diving and big girl pants only added to Kara’s sense that their relationship had truly evolved.

And then Cat was gone. 

To a yurt, at least for a while. Kara knows that Cat leaves out the weeks spent in luxury hotels and exclusive villas, because it doesn’t fit the narrative. Being a reporter for this long has taught Kara the value of cutting, of editing down to the bone so the real story can leap off the page. She still hoards the details though, has a ‘kill your darlings file’ for every background fact she spent hours tracking down, for every beautiful turn of phrase cut for being too emotive (or “sentimental crap” to quote Snapper, repeatedly). 

And Kara is still just as greedy, still a dragon sitting on gold with the details she has about Cat. Even now she knows things nobody else does, still gleans new facts and opinions from Cat that surprise and delight and downright shock sometimes. Kara isn’t sure she’ll ever know enough about the woman who was once her boss, but she knows she isn’t going to stop trying any time soon. 

So when Cat calls in the middle of the night, Kara’s so excited she doesn’t even notice the ‘Keira’ at first. Only when Cat has launched into a tirade about Lois and the Planet and some kind of slight that Kara hasn’t read about yet does the misnaming register. 

“You know what, Ms Grant?” No _Cat_ , no friendly familiarity. Kara’s had a long week of people trying to kill her, imprison her, or exile her from the only home she has left. She’s exhausted, a little lonely, and no matter how many calls or messages come through at random times, it’s not the same as Cat coming home. What is she even doing out there now? The Marsdin administration is over, and there’s been no mention of Cat in the media aside from the usual tabloid fantasies in the checkout aisle. Which Kara has absolutely been reduced to reading, in case there’s a grain of truth in there somewhere.

“What?” Cat finally answers, initially taken aback that Kara would even dare to interrupt her in the first place. And it would be so easy, to go back to how they were. To apologize and let Cat carry on being witty and furious and eloquent, even after who knew how many glasses of fine Scotch, but Kara doesn’t want that anymore.

She wants the relationship where they’re equals, as much as they can be. Where Cat confides in her, and advises her, and they face down the dangers of the world together. Side-by-side. Something Kara can’t have with a woman who’s Rao-knows-where, and who can’t even get her name right.

“This isn’t Keira. Or Karla. Or Assistant Two. Not ‘hashtag Terrible Girl’ or ‘Jane Austen Character’, or any of those other things you call me to keep me at arm’s length. If you want to talk to me, or spend time with me, then please do me the courtesy of using my given name.”

“Oh come on,” Cat says, the scoff barely hidden at all. “I’m just having a little fun. For old times’ sake, _Keira--”_

But Kara hangs up.

Her first reaction is blind panic, squeezing the phone hard enough to crack the screen. She catches herself before she can pulverise the damn thing. Her second is to call Cat back immediately and grovel, but the pride coursing through her veins won’t allow it. The line in the sand is drawn, and Kara won’t be stepping, leaping, or even flying over it. This time Cat has to make up the ground if this strange friendship is to continue, and Kara isn’t going to make it easier on her.

It’s hard to fall asleep, checking the phone every few minutes in case the notification didn’t come, or the screen forgot to light up. Cat doesn’t call, she doesn’t text, and there isn’t an email waiting when Kara finally remembers to check that. Sleep wins out in the end, but when she closes her eyes all she can see is Cat’s wounded expression, that pout that suggests she didn’t expect Kara of all people to hurt her. 

******

It’s not that early when Kara is jolted from sleep two days later, but it sure feels like it as she whooshes across the loft and fixes her pajamas at superspeed. She should have fixed her hair too, because it’s the first thing Cat stares at when the heavy door slides open.

“What…?”

“I’m coming in.” Cat announces it as she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, all beachy waves and freshly highlighted. She doesn’t ask permission. Kara steps aside, struck mute by her unexpected guest.

“Can I…?” She finally starts to form, but Cat thrusts a bag from the coffee shop across the street into Kara’s flailing hands. A big bag, that apparently contains the entire contents of their pastry case and a huge cinnamon-sprinkled latte. Cat’s own to-go cup is in her other hand, and she sips from it with a frown. Probably not hot enough.

“I brought breakfast,” Cat says, as though the bag needs an explanation. “We need to talk and god knows you’re useless on an empty stomach.”

“There are like, a dozen crullers in here,” Kara says, extracting the coffee cup from its holder. “Right. I keep forgetting we talked about that.”

“And I thought you’d been lying awake nights for all those years you hadn’t told me,” Cat replies, taking herself off toward the sofa and perching on the arm like it’s one from her old office. “Clearly it wasn’t such a burden if you haven’t noticed the difference.”

“I’ll just…” Kara needs to locate the rest of her vocabulary. A large gulp of coffee helps. Caffeine is one of the few human tricks that has an effect on Kryptonians. “What are you doing here? Did I miss something?”

“I ordered thirteen crullers,” Cat says by way of not answering. “So you can give me one wrapped in a napkin, thank you.”

“Right.” 

Kara complies, and it’s no wonder Cat wants to eat her food carefully. She’s not dressed for business--she rarely is on Sundays, even though she works on them more often than not--but her clothes are as exquisitely tailored and delicate as ever. The blouse is a gauzy kind of cream linen that screams ‘ask me about my gorgeous beach house’ and the capri pants seem to have been painted on in the color of a sunny morning, something National City has in abundance right outside the window. The sandals criss-cross delicate bones in Cat’s perfectly-pedicured feet and not for the first time Kara finds herself wondering how someone who appears so fragile can be the strongest person she knows, along with Alex.

“Well, this is mediocre.” Cat sets her pastry aside after one bite. “At least you’re dressed for the occasion.”

Kara glances down and notices for the first time quite how much skin is on display. She does tend to run hot by human standards, so sometimes her nightwear borders on skimpy. Like this strappy top and tiny shorts combo. She’s never been shy about her body, other than the modesty borne of spending half her life hoping people wouldn’t look at her too closely. 

That worked with Cat at first. But no one, not one single human, has ever looked at her with the intensity that Cat is right now. 

“I can change?” She offers. There’s a bathrobe somewhere. She can always wrap herself up in the cape for the novelty of it, but Cat shakes her head quite firmly.

“Come. Sit.”

“You know, it occurs to me,” Kara says as she takes a seat opposite Cat, sitting up straight and refusing to be cowed by her presence. “That I’m maybe not… actually talking to you right now? And that was before you didn’t even tell me you were back home.”

“Oh.” Cat has the decency to look embarrassed for a moment. “Well, technically I wasn’t. My plane just got in a couple of hours ago. I checked in on Carter at his father’s--still sleeping, of course--and then I came to see you.”

“But that sounds like you made a trip especially to see me,” Kara says, and her nervous little laugh turns into a snort. Great. Super cool moment for that to happen. “And… and you don’t do that, Ms Grant.”

“Why are you doing that?” Cat snaps, and there are no two ways about exactly how snappish it is. She doesn’t like it one bit, which is pretty weird. Kara doesn’t think she ever minded it before, and she called Cat by her title for two solid years. 

“Doing what? Calling you Ms Grant?”

“Yes.”

Kara folds her arms, defiant. “Why do you think I am?”

“Because this is some childish game in which you’re trying to punish me. No, sorry, Supergirl doesn’t punish. You’re teaching me a lesson. It’s very after-school-special of you, _Keira.”_

“Then you know exactly why. And you’re still doing it.” Kara stands, refusing to ignore the way Cat’s gaze trails all the way down her bare legs. “I already drank most of the coffee, but you can take your pastries and go.”

“You’re throwing me _out?”_ Cat looks genuinely stunned. But before Kara can even think of reconsidering, Cat slides her sunglasses down from where they’re nestled in golden curls and that Cat Grant Mask is firmly in place. “You may as well keep them, I won’t eat them.”

“Okay, wait--”

“No, you’ve made your feelings clear. That’s what I thought I was doing by coming here this morning, but it’s clearly as stupid an idea as I always told myself it would be. Still, you may as well have this.”

She fishes in her purse and pulls out a package that Kara recognizes. It’s a long narrow box of some kind, wrapped in black paper. That package, or one very like it, has been in Cat’s purses or bags for...wow, actually for years. Kara always assumed it was some perfume or some kind of discreet purchase that Cat didn’t have her fetch and carry, and the possibility of uncovering something mortifying had stopped Kara from ever getting too curious. 

“Wait!” Kara calls after her, but Cat can move damn quickly when it suits her. Like a shark through waters that are always too still for her. 

With the door closed, Kara sits right there on the floor and crosses her legs. Why has she been given this box today, like Cat planned for it? Should she x-ray it first? Somehow that feels like cheating, more than it normally would anyway. There’s nothing for it but to open the damn thing. 

Tearing the paper as little as possible, the stationery nerd in Kara marvels at the quality of it. When it’s removed there’s just a simple black box, covered in supple leather. It’s even slimmer out of the wrapping, and it feels cool against Kara’s palm while it rests there. There’s a tiny insignia stamped in the leather, traced in gold leaf. There’s something about the logo that’s familiar, but Kara is too distracted to tug on that thread of thought. 

“Here goes,” she tells herself, pressing a thumb to the discreet little catch that holds the box closed. It opens with the glint of gold, set against soft velvet the color of mink. A piece of paper floats out of the lid, and Kara catches it without conscious thought. She prods at the shimmering chain of the necklace - it’s fragile, no doubt very expensive given Cat’s tastes. Does she… carry around jewelry to give out so she doesn’t have to make apologies? It’s not something Kara ever saw Cat do in two years as her assistant. 

There’s no pendant on the necklace, but it has some intricate goldwork between the two sections of chain. A festoon, Kara remembers, if only because it’s so close to the Kryptonian word for a similar thing. She clings to words like that even now. 

Laying it on her palm she sees the pattern in the delicate swirls: it spells out her name. It’s not immediately obvious, almost an optical illusion of sorts, but Kara sees it as though it’s glowing just for her attention. A personalized piece of jewelry. How unlike Cat, but it feels like something Kara has been waiting for all her life. 

“Why now?” Kara asks the empty room. That’s when she becomes aware of the crumpled paper in her fist. Unfurling it, she smooths it out on her bare thigh to see if it holds any explanation.

It’s just a receipt. 

The prices have been left off, of course, but the details of the item confirm the inscription of Kara to be intentional. It’s from a jeweler in Metropolis, one Cat favors for occasional purchases, but only ever personal ones. Kara has bought gifts on Cat’s behalf from jewelers all over the world, but from this place it’s only ever something that she later sees Cat wearing herself. 

Left with more questions than answers, Kara decides that Cat isn’t going to get to leave it at that. In a flurry of activity she’s clean, dressed, and ready to go within seconds. Even with a driver, Cat can’t have gotten too far. 

***

In the end Kara makes it to Cat’s destination first; it isn’t hard to predict she’s heading for the penthouse, no doubt waiting for Carter to wake up and be brought over to her. Instead of ringing the doorbell, Kara waits on the balcony that wraps around the whole floor, the most private stretch of which is right outside Cat’s bedroom. It’s risky to fly without the suit, especially in broad daylight, but Kara’s in no mood to care. 

Cat doesn’t look surprised to see her waiting there. She comes right across the room to unlock the French windows but doesn’t step out to greet Kara. 

“You’re here,” is her only comment. She waits, hands on hips. 

Kara notices how sheer the creamy top is, practically transparent really. That’s why Cat is wearing a tiny silk camisole beneath it, the same style as she wears under her blazers sometimes. It obscures the lines of her torso in a way that always makes Kara want to trace them. Sketch them in charcoal maybe, or just feel them beneath her fingertips. It would be a way to make sure that Cat is really here, still here, after too long away. 

“So I opened your… gift? Is that what it is?”

Cat nods, expression shrewd. She expects something from Kara here. 

“And um, thank you? I guess. I mean it proves you know my name, but what I’m mad about is--”

“That I deliberately don’t use it? Yes, I picked up on that.” Cat doesn’t seem all that apologetic. Kara takes a step closer.

“Right. Like you just got offended when I went back to calling you Ms Grant. I don’t like doing it! I like calling you Cat. I thought that meant we were… close.”

Cat raises an eyebrow, but makes no other movement. 

“Especially now you know my secret, Cat. I don’t get what you’re trying to prove anymore.”

“Oh, Kara.” The sigh is barely audible. Cat comes out onto the balcony at last, squinting a little in the morning sunshine. “Did you look at the receipt?”

“... yes?”

“The _date_ on the receipt?”

Kara pulls it from the pocket of her jeans, a little sheepish. “This is… that’s like a week after I started working for you.”

“Hmm, yes. That’s right.”

“I don’t get it?” Kara is all out of clues. She’s rusty in reading Cat’s body language, beyond knowing that she’s being more guarded than usual.

“I didn’t know your name that first week,” Cat says, looking anywhere but right at Kara. “I have any number of details to retain on a daily basis, and frankly too many assistants didn’t last the week. When you made it, I took your resume out of the drawer and refreshed myself on your name.”

“But--”

Cat waves her hand to cut Kara off. “And yes, it was a test. Some old management technique I either came up with or borrowed, but I called you by the wrong name to see what you were made of.”

“You did?” Kara moves around into Cat’s sightline, forcing her to look. “I think I remember that. I cried over takeout with my sister about it, after making a bunch of excuses for you that she wasn’t buying.”

“Sounds like a smart woman.”

“She is.”

“Anyway,” Cat continues, and this time she does acknowledge Kara’s presence, comes a little closer even. “You looked so hurt, and then you were so damn noble about it. _Actually Ms Grant, it’s Kara_. I knew right then not to underestimate you. When I was in Metropolis that weekend, I thought I should pick something up to show that you’d impressed me.”

Cat laughs, that tinkling little sounds that Kara has missed so much every day. 

“Can you believe it? Me? Buying an assistant gifts two weeks in? I made the mistake of letting Lois find out about it, and she mocked me ten ways from Sunday. I didn’t know then that you were… family.”

There’s nothing Kara can say in response to that beyond grinning. Navigating Cat and Lois’s frenemy relationship is usually harder than policing the skies of National City on a holiday weekend. 

“But you didn’t give it to me,” Kara replies. “And I’ve seen that package. I didn’t know it was the same one the whole time, but I’ve seen it in purses and bags and in your desk, even. I always thought it was something really personal to you.”

“Oh. Well, it is.” Cat tilts her head to the side the way she does when she’s trying to come up with a snappier headline. “That’s the whole problem. I saw then that you’d be terribly easy to get close to. Spill all my secrets during girl talk. Expose all my weaknesses while we braided each other’s hair. No, no. That was much too dangerous.”

“D-dangerous? _Me?_ ”

“Kara, you could level five city blocks with an ill-timed sneeze. Don’t _aw shucks_ at me, you...Kryptonian.”

There’s not much defense to that, so Kara shrugs. 

“It still doesn’t explain why I didn’t get my present.” Is she pouting? Maybe a little. It really is a beautiful necklace, and Kara hasn’t felt quite right since she gave her mother’s pendant away on a stupid whim. One she still regrets. 

“Because I had to keep my distance from you. Long-term. You still lasted longer than anyone else, and I admit that I tried everything to force you out when it all got too much. Every day you just showed up and kept being the best thing that ever happened to me at CatCo.”

“Pfft.” Kara tries to dismiss the compliment, but her heart skips several beats. “You don’t mean that.”

“And I realized later, when you confided in me at last, that I had been hurting you in ways I hadn’t thought of. Your name, being called _Kara_ … that’s one of the few things you brought with you from your own world. If I had known, if I had thought for one second… I would have found another way to keep my distance. Can you believe that, at least?”

“I don’t think I’m mad anymore,” Kara replies. “I get what you were doing, but I still don’t understand why. Would it have been so terrible if we were friends while I worked for you? And what about the other night? That’s what started this whole mess again. You went right back to Keira and there was no reason to.”

“Really? Even when I was calling you late? A few drinks in, with all my inhibitions lowered? You can’t possibly be that dense, Kara. I suspect sometimes that light bends around you, but you’re just not that oblivious.”

“Wait…”

“That’s it. Lend voice to thought and let’s just put it all behind us. I’d like to still be a mentor to you, guide your career if you need it. I’ll understand if that’s not an option.”

“You like me,” Kara says. She can’t distinguish one heartbeat from another anymore. “I mean _like me_ like me. And all this time you’ve been worried that it’s going to show. So you pull that Cat Grant mean girl routine, and hope that I’ll run off crying before it gets too obvious.”

“Tina Fey has a lot to answer for, but basically? Yes.” Cat stands with her hands on her hips, but she’s blushing ever so gently. The woman who straight up asked out Idris Elba is nervous about Kara knowing her feelings. The world is definitely upside down. “Anyway, you have your necklace now. I’ll be more careful about the name thing.”

“That’s a crappy apology,” Kara says, pulling the box from her pocket and opening it again. “But since I’m here, do you think you could help me with this? Super strength and tiny clasps don’t go well together.”

“You’re keeping it then? You’ll have to duck down a bit,” Cat says with a bit of a huff. “In those wedges you’re practically an Amazon.”

“My friend Diana is… you know what, forget I said anything.” Kara dangles the gossamer-thin chain from her fingers. How best to do this? “Actually I’ll just kneel.”

There’s a sudden, very pointed silence as Kara does exactly that. She sweeps her hair to one side, baring her neck, and then pulls the necklace into position. With both ends offered up, there’s no answering motion.

“Cat?”

Slender fingers wrap around Kara’s own. The two strands of gold are plucked from her fingers. Cat fastens it without fumbling, just the practised ease of someone who wears these things and changes them daily if not more often. She smooths it into place against Kara’s neck and the sensitive skin there reacts like an electrical current has passed right through it.

It feels impossibly dangerous, but Kara does the only thing she can think of: she looks up.

Cat’s hand comes to rest on Kara’s cheek almost as if she was expecting it. She strokes her thumb across the line of Kara’s cheekbone and despite wanting to look at Cat more than anything, Kara feels her eyes flutter closed for just a moment.

“This…” Cat whispers. “This is what I’ve been so afraid of.” She gets down on her knees right in front of Kara, hands moving to Kara’s shoulders to steady herself. “And this tile floor is going to wreak havoc on my knees.”

“Then we can--”

“Kara. If you suggest moving from this spot, from this moment… I might just strangle you, superhero or not.”

“Okay, so while we’re here…”

“Jesus Christ,” Cat mutters, the words caressing Kara’s lips as she moves in for a kiss. And what a kiss it turns out to be. There’s no awkwardness, no realigning or bumping of teeth. It’s a kiss that seems to have been set in motion four years ago, and it’s only now that they’re finally allowing it to happen. Lips pressed against lips, the tentative flicker of Cat’s tongue chased by the bolder motion of Kara’s. They kiss and they kiss and hands are tangled in each other’s hair, like letting go for even a second might blow the moment away on the breeze. 

“Oh,” Kara gasps when they finally take a moment to gather themselves. Cat’s hand slips from where it’s tangled in Kara’s hair to stroke the letters that hang so perfectly just below Kara’s clavicle. 

“It looks good on you. It looks right.”

Kara can’t really see it, but she knows instinctively that it does. It feels like she’s always worn it; like she might never take it off. 

“You know, we really can do this somewhere more comfortable,” Kara says. “For example, there’s a really huge bed, like, right over there.”

“Kara Danvers, are you suggesting we take this anything other than slow?” Cat actually looks a little scandalized. “I thought it would be months of restrained kissing and elaborate dates?”

“Oh, we can do that,” Kara replies. “And the restrained part sounds _really_ good. But I think four years of foreplay is more than enough, don’t you?”

“Kara…”

“You must have pictured me wearing your necklace.” Kara doesn’t quite know where this boldness is coming from, it’s like discovering a new superpower. She likes it. “But I suppose the question is, was I wearing anything else when you pictured it?”

“That is a very good point,” Cat says, getting back to her feet and offering a hand to Kara. She takes it, but floats back to standing, just to show off. “Bed it is. But don’t worry, I have a lot of other handy surfaces too.”

“Good,” Kara replies, stealing another kiss as they start to walk toward the bedroom, hand-in-hand. “Because we definitely have a lot of lost time to make up for.”


End file.
